


track 1: the struggle

by blifuys



Series: waking up the giants: fe3h song week [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beta Read!, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Modern Fodlan but they're still a wee bit racist, content warning: racism, featuring: racists, two angsty boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22617547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blifuys/pseuds/blifuys
Summary: you're young enough to say what you feel // say what you feel // say what you feel // sometimes it's all that we got // all that we got it's // all that we got // then it's gonethe world turns its back on claude and dimitri, but they find the universe in each other.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Series: waking up the giants: fe3h song week [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627228
Comments: 7
Kudos: 78





	track 1: the struggle

**Author's Note:**

> WHAT UP MY DUDES
> 
> i'm officially joining in the fe3h song week challenge! i won't participate in every single day, but i'll write as much as i can. gotta work on that real life responsibility, ya know?
> 
> my album of choice for this challenge is [waking up the giants](https://open.spotify.com/album/6R6Xy2gwyTO6GS1Cs4K1cI?si=c0wufDGpTqyGhFGlTFolVw) by grizfolk! this album has been around for a while now, but i find myself coming back to it now and then. i hope this album brings you as much comfort as it does to me! many thanks to my beta Gyoomie!! I LOVE U!! MAY THE SUN NEVER HIT U!!
> 
> and to you, for reading. as always, thank you so, so much for your support. i read every single one of your comments, and your love for my writing is overwhelming. i adore you guys.
> 
> this fic's song is [the struggle](https://open.spotify.com/track/4HSzQXLeBD9fV6U4RVDHg9?si=hOBcF4B7SG2G_Zo2f9MajQ), and is one of my favourite comfort songs! 
> 
> \--
> 
> CW RACISM // i tried to explore claude's experiences here. if that may trigger you please proceed with caution!!

Gravel and soil crunch under his shoes, a hypnotic rhythm accompanying his climb up the hill. Here, he feels safe, far away from the sleepy town that lays at the foot of the slopes — far away from the place that feels so foreign, like a distant planet a billion stars away. 

_ He _ feels like a billion stars away. 

Claude follows the path winding left and right, unsure of where it’ll take him. It doesn’t matter anyway;  _ anywhere _ would be a better place than wandering the streets like a helpless deer, vulnerable and open to attacks from anywhere, anytime. A knife through the heart, poison through the ears, it seems like anyone will attack him these days - all because Claude von Riegan isn’t  _ like _ them. 

He doesn’t remember what home feels like anymore. 

He pushes away the thoughts to the back of his mind. He’s gotten quite good at it, it seems. Whether it’s a matter to be celebrated is a whole new discussion entirely, but he can’t help but mourn the death of a boy once in love with the world and what it had in store for him, so untouched by the stains of evil gripping around his heart and mind. He will never see that boy again. 

On his thirty-fifth turn, Claude finds what he’s been looking for. 

A tree stands tall at the peak of the hill, like a lonely castle in the sky watching mortals from the earth. It’s huge, big enough that its branches stretch over Claude like a huge umbrella, shielding him from rain and sun alike. Sunlight hits the tree at the  _ perfect _ angle, lighting up a verdant glow like a halo. 

It’s heaven on earth. 

His hand stretches out, fingers brushing against the hot bark. It's a particularly hot day today, and he feels an uncomfortable stickiness to his skin, but the burn feels  _ good _ . It makes him feel alive, his existence further assured by the ache in his calves. The fact that Claude even needs a reminder makes his lips turn down in an unhappy scowl, so tight that it's impossible for him to shrug it off with an easy, practiced smile.

It's getting harder to shrug  _ anything _ off with a smile these days.

See, Claude — by many definitions — is an outsider. The kids of the town call him names, point fingers and tell him to  _ go home _ , like his certificates aren't legitimate enough to justify him existing here. His extended relatives whisper behind his back, pieces of  _ not Fódlan enough, not Almyra enough,  _ escaping loose lips from gaping holes. As if they've tried to hide it in the first place. 

Every word cuts deep. It's better these days; the scars in his heart toughened enough to withstand the sharpest of attacks. But sometimes, it's not enough. No matter where he goes, it seems, he will never be enough. 

Claude plants his behind onto the grassy, crusty earth, leaning his back against the tree trunk while he gazes up at the sky. 

Today, of all days, was extra hard for him. One might think that with more than  _ one _ war under their historical belt, the people of Fódlan would think just a little bit harder about maintaining harmony of some sorts. 

"—and during the Great War of Fódlan from 1181 to 1185, the Almyran forces had fought alongside the Leicester Alliance. This collaborative effort cemented bilateral ties, and as a result, ties between the two nations hold strong to this very day. As we've learned before, the deployment of these forces were largely due to the—" 

" _ Yeah, right. _ " Claude hears a whisper behind him. "I heard from my parents that the Almyrans were paying back a debt then. Something about them owing the leader of the Leicester Alliance—" 

"So they didn't do it out of friendship?" A second hushed voice joins in.

"Nah, barbarians don't understand things like friendship. Don't you know? Some scientific study found the Almyran brain to be less developed than a Fódlan brain."

" _ Oh _ , I guess that explains some things." 

And all of a sudden, a hole feels like it’s being burned into the back of his head. 

Claude’s origins, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, is no secret to the school. Why would it be? It’s already suspicious enough that a student transferred into  _ their _ territory in the middle of a school year. The fact that Claude is so visibly different from all of them makes him an easy target, defenseless and unwilling. 

“The Almyrans are just like the Duscurians.” The whispers continue behind his back, despite all his attempts to drown them out. His teacher’s ramblings are getting harder to hear, too soft in comparison to the horrible things that he’s forced to listen to. “Are they even human?”

“I heard they eat  _ people _ , what human would do that?”

“Ew,  _ gross _ , stay away from  _ that _ dude then. He’ll probably take a bite if you get too close.”

Unlike the people of Fódlan, Claude does not believe in a sole goddess. He believes that the world is filled with deities, governing the deepest crusts of the earth and the highest points of the sky, where the goddess of the sea protects the life in her waters alongside her brothers and sisters. Despite that, he can’t help but utter a silent thanks when the bell rings shrilly, cutting this history class short and putting an end to the horrible whispers that piled against his back. 

Without hesitation, he tosses his bag over his shoulder, letting it flop against his back as he gathers his supplies and books into his arms—leaving without a second thought. He has to get out, staying only adds to his own torture. The way people stare at him in the hallways only amplifies the growing void in his heart, and every not-so-secretive whisper only fuels the ugly, horrific voices that plague his imagination. 

_ Disgusting. _

_ Go home.  _

_ Not one of us.  _

The walls close in on him as he begins to break into a dash, the sounds of his sneakers against polished floor squeaking in his ears as he runs forward—faster,  _ faster _ where they can’t catch him. Where he’s no longer hated. 

_ Get away from us. _

_ Go home. _

_ Not one of us.  _

And that’s how he finds himself sitting under the biggest tree he’s ever seen, staring at the sky spread across the tiny town he’s supposed to call home. He doesn’t hear anyone here, no one that will tell him he doesn’t belong, or that he’s defected, or that he’s not  _ human _ in the very least. 

The anger swells inside of him. Who do these people think they are? Who are they to tell him these things? What makes him so different—so utterly undeserving of any ounce of human respect? 

Why doesn’t he belong? And where is home? 

He curls his fingers into the ground, hearing the crunch of dried leaves under the force of his grip while he desperately scrabbles for control. He feels the soil gather under his nails as his fingertips scrape against the ground. Claude knows being upset will do no good. He’s learned from his mother how to stop—by breathing in counts.  _ One-two-three-four, five-six-seven-eight. _ Rinse and repeat until he’s calm, no longer angry. 

But no matter how much he tries this time, no matter how many cycles of breathing he puts himself through, the upset doesn’t go away. The angry, bitter taste in his mouth only grows more and more muted as he allows it to fester, until there’s nothing left but the sorrowful feeling of emptiness engulfing his body whole.

"Um, excuse me?"

Claude jolts, sitting up straight and pulling himself away from the trunk as he quickly wipes his eyes with the backs of his hands. He wasn't expecting anyone to be here, not where the world seems to finally accept him. For all he knows, he will never be home where other people are - seemingly destined to live out his days in loneliness. 

He quickly sniffles, turning his head towards the voice, trying to drag his lips into a practiced smile - believable enough to ensure that his true feelings stay buried, safe from ridicule. 

“Y-yeah?” 

But despite his best efforts to look  _ normal _ , presentable at the very least, the person does not seem a single bit convinced that Claude is fine. Peeking out from the side of the thick trunk that Claude leans upon, the newcomer’s azure-blue eyes are filled with concern - or judgement. He can’t quite tell right now.

“Pardon me,” the boy—blonde hair falling over his eyes and in need of some serious shampooing—says, keeping a safe distance away as if Claude’s a spooked animal. “I didn’t mean to intrude, but I heard you crying. Are you—um.  _ Okay? _ ”

_ Are you okay? _

It’s been a while since Claude’s been asked that. It’s been a while since anyone besides his own parents have looked at him like he’s  _ human _ , like he’s someone else’s equal. If he’s being truthful, his mind is overwhelmed by a rush of mixed emotions—colours bleeding into one singular muddy colour at the very bottom of his brain. He doesn’t know how to react, whether he should brush it off and let this boy go about his merry way, or— _ or… _

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. For the first time in  _ ages _ , he’s rendered speechless, unable to respond to even the simplest question. Something burns his chest, like the flashover of a fire roaring out of control. No matter how much he tries to force it, nothing leaves his lips. Not even the smallest squeak, not even the ghost of a word makes an appearance.  He feels his bottom lip tremble, dried tears tasting salty as his smile—as painfully constructed as it is—slowly fades away.

His eyes well up with more tears, but Claude quickly reaches up with both his hands, shielding his gaze from this stranger. He doesn’t want to give anyone the pleasure of watching him be vulnerable, but even the strongest of shells have to crack. Somehow, he knows inside of him that this has been due for a long time coming.

Claude can only pray that someone,  _ anyone _ will give him even the tiniest bit of kindness and not kick him while he’s down. He curls up, pulling his knees to his chest like a defensive barrier, and while he slowly constructs a shell around him he keeps trying to say  _ something _ , anything to explain to this person why an outsider like him is crying alone under a tree—too far to pretend he’s simply lost his way.

“Hey, hey,  _ no _ , I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry!” 

The boy quickly kneels before him, his hands waving around haphazardly as he thinks of what to do. Claude can almost  _ see _ his thought process:  _ should I pat him? Should I sit down? Should I go away?  _ If he wasn’t so emotional right now, Claude had the feeling he might consider this stranger to be cute, in a very earnest and endearing way. 

“I’m sorry. If you want me to leave, tell me, okay? But I couldn’t leave you here alone.” 

Why?

“I’m Dimitri. Um. Nice to meet you. You must be wondering why I’m here. I promise I won’t hurt you, I’ll sit here and listen to you! I promise, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

_ Why? _

The boy shifts in front of Claude awkwardly. But despite Claude’s inability to do anything but sob in front of someone he’s never met, the boy— _ Dimitri— _ doesn’t inch a single muscle out of place, perfectly still like he’s a trained show dog, obedient and loyal to his owner. Despite how awkward it feels, draining the rest of his tears in front of him, Claude feels comforted, somehow. He can’t remember the last time he’s cried, probably tucked away in the darkest corner of his room at some point in the night, as silent as he can so he wouldn’t alert his parents. 

It’s nice. Very nice. For the first time in a while, he doesn’t feel so  _ alone _ . He feels as if someone’s finally looked  _ at _ him instead of— _ down at him _ , and the mere feeling brings him comfort. A peace of mind that maybe not everything in this world seeks to destroy him for being, that perhaps there  _ is _ a place for him to exist. 

“You don’t have to stay,” Claude finally speaks up after a while, as his tears finally start drying up. The calm is beginning to fill his head with silence. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know, but I wanted to help.” 

Claude’s eyes scan over Dimitri, watching as the boy curls his fingers into his thighs. He’s sitting so formally, legs tucked under him while he presses his palms into the middle of his lap. His back is so straight that it hurts to even look at him, and Claude thinks he can feel the beginning of an ache at the base of his spine. 

Somehow, from body language alone, he can tell that Dimitri is not the average teenage boy. 

“Well, thank you,” Claude mutters, and despite the numb feeling in his mind and heart, he manages a small smile, a little too vulnerable still for his liking. “Your presence is appreciated, really.”

Claude must have done  _ something _ right, because the next thing he realises is that Dimitri’s  _ glowing _ . He looks so relieved, his shoulders dropping and his frame loosening up a little when he sees Claude smile. 

“I’m so glad.” 

The wind at the top of the hill plays with his hair and rustles the leaves above them both. It’s a nice day out today, not a cloud in the sky. Somehow, the good crying session’s given him the chance to let out all his frustrations, as if the wind had carried all his stress on its back and blew far, far away. It seems that Dimitri shares his sentiments as well, because the next thing he realises, the blonde boy’s tilting his head back and closing his eyes, enjoying the feel of the wind on his skin. 

“I always like coming up here. It feels a little like coming to the top of the world, no?”

Watching the sky stretch over their heads like this makes him feel small, like the suffocating corners and narrow streets of their town are nothing in comparison to the vastness of the world around them. It makes his worries seem a little more manageable, not too big for his seventeen-year-old self to handle. 

He finds himself agreeing with Dimitri. It  _ does _ feel like the top of the world. 

“You got some worries on your mind too, Dimitri?” Claude asks. No point beating around the bush with the only guy who’s ever seen him shed tears over something, he thinks. 

“I… I do have my worries. It’s nothing for you to be concerned over, though.”

“Nonsense, you and I are partners in emotions now. C’mon, let me hear it. And stop sittin’ like that, make yourself comfortable.” 

It’s a shared vulnerability that they’ve somehow established, but he’s too stubborn to let himself be the only one found out. The boy stares at Claude for a couple of seconds, as if sizing him up and weighing his options—should he speak or should he run? Claude wouldn’t be surprised if he chose the latter. No one would ever speak to an  _ Almyran _ about their troubles. His blood spelled trouble for anyone who came near, despite history telling its tales of friendship and camaraderie. 

Dimitri, to his surprise, is compliant. From his statuesque position in front of him, the boy slowly moves next to Claude as he settles himself against the trunk of the big tree, pulling his knees up and making himself comfortable. 

He feels like he has a friend. They sit together, feeling the grass around them brush against any exposed bit of skin, and for just a moment—all is well.

“Have you ever felt like you’re letting the world down?”

That isn’t what Claude is expecting to hear. Dimitri looks like the type to have everything—a modern day prince with a white horse waiting in a meadow nearby. 

“I mean. I guess you can tell, I’m half-Almyran. Isn’t that just letting the world down in itself?” Claude laughs bitterly, the sound grating against his ribcage. 

“No? Being half-Almyran isn’t letting the world down. Who told you that?” Dimitri asks, incredulous. 

“No one,” Claude replies.

_ Directly, at least,  _ he thinks. 

“Disgusting,” Dimitri’s face twists into something dark—poison tainting azure-blue as he glowers at the sky. “Bastards. We’ve come too far to look down on others. It’s for this reason that injustice still runs rampant."

"... And you don't think I'm some cannibalistic monster?" The tree branches sway a little harder in the wind, and a couple of leaves break off, filling the blue sky with bits of green floating away. It's beautiful. Claude watches one flutter downwards, towards the town.

"Of course not. You are a human being. Anyone who treats you otherwise, however, isn't."

Dimitri's pretty lucky that Claude had cried himself dry. The burn under his lids is proof that he's out of juice, proof that there's nothing left in him to wring dry. The most incredible thing, Claude realises, is that it's almost impossible to sense a single lie from the person sitting beside him, like being honest is as natural as breathing to the blond boy. It's refreshing, like a tall glass of water on a hot summer's day.

And he can't help but wonder, how long has he been thirsty? 

"Well, Dimitri. I dunno what your life is like, but I don't think you're a disappointment at all. From what I've seen today? You're far from it."

"Far from it, huh." 

Claude tears his gaze away from the sky to take a look at Dimitri, just to get a hint of whatever he's thinking. He watches Dimitri smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. His companion's expression is pained, like Claude had hit something raw—although he knows he hasn't said much. 

Just how badly does this guy think of himself?

"Hey." Claude reaches out, gently clasping his hand on his shoulder. The contact he makes wasn't expected, judging from how Dimitri's eyes snap open in surprise. "Human beings aren't perfect. You look too young to be worrying about perfection."

"I'm seventeen." 

"So am I, and I still think we're too young to face the world like this."

Dimitri's lips begin to curl into a smile, a  _ genuine _ one, as a blond brow quirks up, teasing. 

"So what's not  _ too young _ for you, then?"

"When I'm old and greying and telling the kids to get off my lawn." 

"Isn't that  _ too old _ ?" Dimitri snorts,  _ chuckling even, _ and Claude thinks it's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. It warms his heart, hearing him laugh, and he wonders if he'll be able to hear it more often. 

"No one should have to face the world like we do," Claude says seriously, but he can't help but smile. It feels so  _ good  _ to be honest for once, to say things and not receive a figurative slap in the face for it. The more he talks to this boy, the more drawn he feels, like a magnet finding its match. "But here we are."

"I suppose you're right." Dimitri's laugh fades, but the twinkle in his eye remains. "Look, how rude of me. You know my name, but I haven't asked for yours."

"It's Claude."

"Well, Claude, it is very nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Dimitri. I think we're witnessing the start of a beautiful bond."

"You know what? I agree with you." The blonde boy chuckles again, and he turns his head away. A serene look washes over his face, and in that moment, he feels at peace. "I'm glad I met you today."

Claude pulls his gaze back to the world before them. It looks a little bit brighter now, like a storm coming to an end. 

He may never find a place to belong. Monsters lurk in the streets, even in broad daylight. Until he takes his last breath, it'll be him against the world, and he'll never stop fighting.

But in that moment, he doesn't feel alone. 

Claude smiles at nothing, his heart racing in his chest as he realises that—for the first time in forever—he's excited to see what the world has in store for him. 

And this time, he might have just found the perfect person to share his discoveries with.

**Author's Note:**

> au notes:   
> \- i may or may not continue this as a seperate verse of its own, but this is modern day fodlan.   
> \- claude is half almyran, but there is a community of people that still continue to be racist as shit. he goes to school in an unnamed region of faerghus, where some of the Boomers™ continue to be asshats to anyone who isn't from Fodlan. sometimes, not even the people of Fodlan get a free pass.   
> \- that being said, claude had to transfer schools from his old school in almyra to a place in fodlan, because of how bad the bullying was. i want to emphasise that while a majority of almyran society does not believe in the old traditions of fodlan being cowards, there will always be bad eggs in every society.  
> \- dimitri does NOT go to claude's school, but he has a very significant role. lambert is Alive in this au, and dimitri's set to take over his company. 
> 
> [keep track of me and my shenanigans here!](https://twitter.com/nekohmy)


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